To My Good Friend

Yes, fling me into bonfires, pinch my neck,
Explain string theory till your tongue turns blue,
My eyes glaze over, and we think it's true,
Hit me with spitballs, put my king in check,
Declaim insanely on a burning deck
About what fish got in the the seafood stew
And why the cook once tried to murder you,
Wretch that you are, a dim wrong-headed wreck.

I don't hate you as much as you hate me.
I am content, at peace. I can forgive
Your anger, uninformed, derivative,
And pathological; my heart is free
Of envy, evil, and of contumely.
Live and let live, my dove. Live and let live.